


I Haven Thee Wonnen in Fighte

by Taupefox59



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Bard Tale, Epic quests, M/M, No Dialogue, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59/pseuds/Taupefox59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is the prince, and Mitchell is his servant in the shadows. </p><p>Sometimes, love is more important than royal duties, and sometimes, the land needs heroes more than it needs another political marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Haven Thee Wonnen in Fighte

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the SpringFRE. 
> 
> Title from the very excellent song ['Louve Me Broughte' ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrGCrN2JErA) by the Mediæval Bæbes.
> 
> Un-beta'd, so if you catch anything, please let me know! Con/crit always welcome!

Servants were not meant to be heard. Servants were not meant to be seen. Servants were meant to be shadows, quieter than the mice that scratched through their way through the walls in the dead of winter. A good servant was invisible, always lingering on the fringes, available to come when called, but never present enough to be noticed when they weren’t wanted.

Mitchell was an excellent servant. He could slid through the shadows, something nearly unnaturally silent about him. He was quick to move when called, and just as quick to disappear when strange eyes were wandering. 

Anders was a prince, and should never have even known who Mitchell was. Unfortunately,  Anders was the kind of prince who often got himself into trouble. Anders was also the kind of prince to talk himself  _ out _ of trouble. Mitchell was not born to the kingdom though, and hadn’t known. All Mitchell had seen were the cruel words and poor odds as a large group of thick-set, burly squires had cornered the fine-boned blond.

Mitchell had fought them all off, single handed. The group had run away, whimpering from injuries, and Mitchell had stood, tall and protective, in front of their intended target. It was only later that Mitchell had learned of Anders' position, and even later after that Mitchell had realized that Anders would often bait people simply for the fun of it.

By that time though, it was far too late. For all of the callous, unkind words that the prince would pour over anyone foolish enough to be in his way, Anders held a spark about him. A silver shimmer in his eyes; the flash of a jewel in the sun. Mitchell had seen it as a spark in blue eyes and in the arrogant charm of Anders smile. Mitchell had found himself entranced by the strange and angry prince.

In gratitude of his protection, Mitchell had been placed as Anders’ personal guard. That was where the trouble truly started.

 

Through every storm Anders would call forward, through words of seduction or actions of spite, Mitchell never wavered. Neither of them knew when the shift occurred. Mitchell’s role shifted from being a guardian to being a companion. He slid from being a silent bystander to being the sardonically hilarious voice in Anders’ ear at inopportune moments. Anders words toward Mitchell had somehow worn down from the cutting remarks of a first defense, into the soft confessions of someone who believed they might not be hurt. 

They had grown inseparable, and no one had thought anything of it. After all, a servant was meant to be a shadow, and Anders was known for blocking the sun from others. It was never suspected that Mitchell preferred the darkness, and that their closeness was one borne from more than simple duty. Companionship had become brotherhood, and then, as time passed, threaded through with lust, had become something entirely different again. It was nothing for Mitchell to let his hands linger on Anders shoulders, or for Anders to Mitchell seated by his feet. Of course, Mitchell was meant to sleep at the foot of Anders bed, but it was hardly as if anyone knew when they began to sleep twined around each other instead.

Everything was going as planned, until the day came that the King and Queen of the land announced that they wished for Andres to be married. The intent was to use Anders as a political tie. After all, he was just one of four princes, and he was hardly the one most suited to the throne. It made sense for him to be the one that they sent away to live in another land.

Anders had heard the announcement, and Anders began to plot. He would not take another, not when he already had Mitchell at his side. As prospective nobles began to flood into the castle, Anders disappeared.

He did not run away. He did something far more dangerous: he locked himself in the libraries, and began to read.

 

He emerged nearly a month later, pale and half-delirious from time spent away from the light and away from any other living soul. Even the near-constant presence of Mitchell had been absent for the entirety of Anders forays into the archives. When Anders returned to the court, he returned with a victorious air, and triumphant declaration on his lips.

He stood before the court, glowing golden in the sun, with his shadow once again by his side. He stood before the ranks of foreign nobility and declared their journeys useless. Citing ancient laws that had long been forgotten, but never struck down. A Prince, if returning successfully from a quest, was allowed to choose any companion to take as consort.

That, of course, was also when Anders announced that he would be going on a quest. He claimed that he would be taking no one with him. No one thought anything of it when Mitchell rode away with him at sunrise the next day.

 

Together they traveled the lands, braving mountains and swamplands, and endless plains. They made their way through forest and desert, to the sea and back. Along the way, Anders would spin them out of trouble, words flowing slick and sweet from his tongue.

Somewhere along the way, his tongue began to shine, flashing silver with his eyes, and his words would come out honey-sweet and irresistible to any who heard them. Whenever shimmering words were not enough, Mitchell’s eyes would blacken, and his teeth would grow beastly. He would slide in and tear down anything in their path. 

It took them years of wandering, crossing the lands, facing goblins and orcs, trolls and dragons to realize they had become heroes.

Only then, as they stood on top of a mountain, only a days ride away from the castle where they had lived that Anders shared the true secret he’d found in the library.

Anders looked to Mitchell, his mate, his lover, his balance, and spoke of prophecy. There was meant to be a silver-tongued prince who was born of the light and in love with the shadow. He was meant to never rule, but to live forever.

That night, when Mitchell’s fangs sunk deep into Ander’s neck the knew the truth: titles and royalty meant nothing in the face of endless time.

When the sun rose the next morning, they turned away from the castle, and rode back into the lands they grown to know so well.

 

After all, no adventure was greater than Love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come chat about anything, come pop by at [my tumblr!](http://taupefox59.tumblr.com/)


End file.
